Dark Ascension
by Mikells
Summary: With the disappearance of the archangel Avacyn, the carefully maintained balance of the plane of Innistrad is sundered. Vampires and Werewolves run rampant, devastating human civilisations and leaving destruction in their wake. The appearance of an unlikely pair has the potential to tip the scales-for better or worse.


Prologue

Three days had passed since the demon king had dared to defile her world with his darkness—three days in which the careful balance which she had been tasked to maintain had been thrown awry. Though the Helvault was full almost to bursting of the lower demons and lesser fouls of the underworld, there was yet room for this one creature whose name she would see fit was never uttered again.

And yet, despite that determination, Avacyn, the Archangel of Innistrad, continued to fight. It had become abundantly clear to her from the first moments that her foe possessed power millions of times in magnitude to those she had imprisoned in the vault. Throughout her existence, she had never encountered such power, not even cumulatively. A part of her relished this new challenge. Perhaps, should she succeed, the hordes of foul demons that would think to lay claim to her subjects as their playthings would rethink those desires.

And still they fought.

For three days.

She did not grow tired, however. And neither did the archangel grow dull of the fight. For Griselbrand was devious, and he often targeted her followers, those foolish enough to defy her orders not to follow her to this confrontation. And in order to keep them alive, Avacyn was often forced to abandon long awaited actions she had been about to implement, end-game actions that would have pushed the darkness into the Helvault and saved Innistrad, just to protect her people.

As important as defeating the demon king was to secure her world, Avacyn wasn't willing to let those whose lives she was responsible for die so needlessly.

But on that third day came what she could not have dared hope before. A distant chanting could be heard from the hills in the direction of Gavony. Human voices, a great many of them.

She could feel the power such words drew from the land, the mana that swirled around her as it was called forth and bound to the will of the chanters. She allowed her thoughts to touch the will binding the mana together, drawing it towards the priests gathered upon the distant hillside. They were calling for protection, invoking her name. And as much as it pained her, she could not part with any of her power.

Griselbrand tried to take advantage of what he thought was an opening. Black mana, drawn from places Avacyn could not even fathom—certainly not from any place she was familiar with. It coalesced into a single, massive cloud that whirled around the ancient demon, enclosing him in a cocoon that dissipated with a _thud_ she felt deep within her bones.

The shock drove the wind from her lungs for but a moment, and as she reeled, gasping for breath, she touched down on the ground, resting the end of her spear against the bloodied mud at her feet. Her gaze quickly scanned an arc from left to right as she attempted to ascertain where the demon had disappeared to. She could feel the taint of his presence still on the world. She knew that he hadn't just cut his losses and run. No demon a match for her power such as this one would abandon any hope of defeating her just because she had stubbornly held him off for so long.

A massive boom behind her signalled the demon's approach.

She whirled without thinking, taking up the haft of her spear in a tight, two-handed grip and slashing the silver tip around quicker than any mortal, even those amongst her numerous angel flights, could ever hope to follow by sight or sound alone. The silver of the spear's tip flashed against the reflected light from the Helvault itself. The blade flashed through the swirling darkness, and a tortured screech the likes she hoped never to hear again rent the air.

Griselbrand appeared, driven to a knee with the silver of the angel's weapon piercing through his tough, left forearm.

She smiled and tugged the weapon free from its fleshy cage as roughly as she could, twisting to ensure that it would deal as much damage as was possible. She would win this battle through the power of a thousand-thousand shallow cuts if need be, but she would win.

Griselbrand's resounding roar knocked her back a step just through sheer force. She spun her spear through her fingers and stabbed at the demon once, twice, then dodged to the left as he flung a ball of swirling black mana at her extended wing. For safety, she folded her wings close to her back, removing the temptation.

The protection the humans in the distance had set up was complete now.

She could act!

She drew on all of her remaining reserves, snatched the trickles of mana coming from the land that had been bent by the humans, she even reached out to her flights of angels from the hills to Gavony. Every scrap of white mana she could touch that wasn't being used to protect her subjects she pulled into herself, channelled down her arms into the silver of her weapon as she stabbed it out with her right hand gripping the haft near its end. With that power she added her determination, her perseverance, her _desire_. Her first true desire since coming into being was strong enough to add fuel to the flames that were the power she had drawn on.

She concentrated, drew a path in her mind that went from the tip of the spear into the heart of the dark king and straight on to the vault. She shunted all of the gathered white mana, her own personal strength, until she felt it pierce through the ancient demon.

The demon roared in defiance, trying to pull free the invisible threads of power that had pierced him to the non-corporeal plain of the Helvault. But every touch of his power against hers slipped free, unable to gain purchase like the sole of a boot against a slick of oil upon the ground. Though his attempts were feeble, he tried and he tried.

But she knew she had won. It had not taken a thousand-thousand shallow cuts, but a single stabbing attack deep into the pit where a soul should have resided. Devoid of a soul, the dark creature could not possibly hope to have the will to resist such a binding.

He was hers.

But then the demon's roars of pain, of anger, turned to racking laughter that took her by surprise. Before she could react, she felt pain bloom deep within her chest, spreading quickly to the tips of her hands, down her muscular legs to the toes.

She looked down, her jaw aching with the effort of gritting her teeth against the growing pain. Griselbrand's vile spear had buried itself to mid-shaft in the absolute centre of her chest. The tip, no doubt, was shining with her precious lifeblood. She dared not look over her shoulder to check. The sight would likely damage her resolve.

She held tight to the power she had gathered, determined that Griselbrand's flailing would not discourage her, she thrust her urgency into the spell she had started. Now that her life was dwindling, she _had_ to make sure the demon was sealed before she died, or nothing would be able to stop him.

Through the chain that rattled at the end of the long spear, the demon king gave a mighty pull and her concentration evaporated.

"No!" she breathed in panic. The spell was too far gone that it wouldn't just dissipate now, but not so far along that he could continue to function as she needed it to on its own.

Already, the threads of power she had carefully woven together into a single stabbing thread were starting to unravel. They were almost visible to her sight, surely as they were for the hapless demon king who continued to roar in anger, hatred, desire to see her dead. Already, his fate was sealed. He was bound for the vault. And in the state she was in, Avacyn could see no way to escape the same fate for herself.

She chose then to spare a glance over her shoulder; she looked not to the jutting end of the spear but to the distant hills where her people were gathered. She focussed her gaze, seeing across the distance as though those standing there were only feet away. She saw the horrified looks on all of their faces as their own resolve faltered. What they were witnessing, they couldn't possibly bring themselves to accept.

Seeing the looks on those priests' faces broke her. She closed her eyes, spread her wings, and let the power take her into oblivion.


End file.
